


Whatever Makes You Happy

by aleksrothis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 NHL Season, Age Difference, Getting Together, Henrik is a hockey player, M/M, Sugar Daddy, Willy is a college student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: 5 Times Someone Called Willy A Sugar Baby and 1 Time He Admitted To It
Relationships: Henrik Lundqvist/William Nylander
Comments: 4
Kudos: 170





	Whatever Makes You Happy

It all starts as an accident really. Willy’s campus job couldn’t give him any more hours and his student visa didn’t allow him to get any legitimate outside work, but one of his coursemates said they knew a bar which would pay him cash in hand. Which went fine for a couple of months until, a couple of weeks before Christmas, he is carrying a tray of glasses back to the kitchen and nearly runs into someone. 

“Sorry,” Willy mutters barely looking over as he manages not to drop the tray, but the other person doesn’t get out of his way. 

“William? Är det du?” _Is that you?_ He registers the Swedish first and, as he looks up, Willy realises he knows the man standing in front of him. 

Henrik Lundqvist looks back at him and it occurs to Willy too late that he probably should have pretended he didn’t understand and escaped before Henke could say anything else but their eyes meet and it’s too late for that. 

“I can’t talk now,” Willy tells him, probably in vain. 

“I’ll wait,” Henke says, the disapproval radiating off him. Or maybe Willy’s projecting and that’s just his normal attitude. Willy hasn’t forgotten that goalies can be weird. 

Willy wishes Henke wouldn’t wait but there’s no polite way of telling him that and the last thing he wants is for Henke to call his dad and let him know what his son is doing. Willy had had enough of his dad’s disapproval when he’d quit hockey. 

He doesn’t see Henke for the rest of the evening and Willy hopes he’s been forgotten. Of course, it turns out Henke is just far too classy to make it obvious he’s waiting until it’s actually time to leave. At least he’s not on lock-up tonight so it’s only Jessica leaving with him when Willy finds Henke waiting at the staff door. 

“Get it, Will,” Jessica says, when she sees him. 

Willy blushes and starts to protest but she just fist bumps him and walks away. “I’m sorry,” he tells Henke, who only smiles and shakes his head as a cab pulls up. 

They don’t talk in the cab back to Henke's place. Willy doesn’t think it’s the same apartment he remembers from when they lived in New York, but it’s been more than a decade since then. 

Willy expects the inquisition to start as soon as the door closes but instead Henke ushers him into the kitchen and tells him to take a seat at the breakfast bar. It’s late but Henke bustles around making hot chocolate in silence until Willy’s whole story spills out of him. It’s a relief to admit to the whole thing—Willy only tells Alex the good parts and his dad has made it clear how he feels about Willy’s ‘adventure’. 

His first year had been fine. He’d found a forum for other international students and got a shared place to rent. Sure, he’d ended up eating ramen a few times but that was just part of the student experience. New York's expensive. Then since Willy wasn’t used to watching what he was spending he’d ended up digging into his personal savings. 

He’d come back for his second year thinking he was prepared to manage his budget but one thing had gone wrong after another. “Then my computer broke down and my bike was stolen. I felt bad asking Dad for money when he was already paying my tuition fees, and my rent.” Not to mention the fact that his dad had made sure most of his money was locked up in long-term savings so he couldn’t access it. “But then my whole allowance was gone as soon as it arrived and I still needed to eat so…” 

“You ended up working at that place,” Henke seems to be making an effort to keep his tone light but Willy can still hear the judgement in it. He pauses though, almost as if he’s having second thoughts about what he was going to say. “But you’re sorted for everything now?” 

“Oh, sure,” Willy tells him. "I borrowed the money from a guy in some of my classes and I’m paying it back weekly." Willy pauses, then shrugs. In for a penny, in for a pound. "But with the interest he’s charging, it’s taken longer than I expected to repay.” Honestly, it feels like a weight of his back now someone else knows. 

“How much do you owe?” Henke asks. 

Willy hesitates. It’s a big amount on his budget but nothing to an NHL player. Henke’s per diem is about what he makes in a night and Henke gets his salary on top of that. Willy chews his lip, hoping he isn’t about to make a mistake in trusting Henke, that this isn’t going to get back to his father. 

“I haven’t spoken to Michael in a couple of years, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Henke says. “Joel sees him from time to time but I’m not going to pass messages. I just want to help.” 

“I can’t pay you back,” Willy says. Even if Henke agreed to loan him the money without interest, he didn’t make that much from the bar work and it seemed that was the part bothering Henke. Except Henke owned a restaurant, didn’t he? Maybe Willy could work there to pay it back—then he’d just be helping out a friend and not working without a visa. Though there was a lot more chance of his being recognised there; he took after his mom more than his dad, but there was still some likeness, and he’d been a first round draft pick. 

“Have dinner with me,” Henke says. 

That doesn’t seem like much of a repayment to Willy, giving that Henke will have to pay unless they go somewhere like Shake Shack or Applebees. 

Henke sends him home in an Uber, with enough cash to finally clear his debt and do a grocery shop. It’s a huge relief to pay off Marsh, though the other man looks a little disappointed to be losing his regular payment—Willy’s probably paid off the original amount twice over in interest already—and it feels good to be able to buy more than the basics and repay his roommates for their help when he’d been short. 

But when it comes to getting ready for dinner, he feels unaccountably nervous. Henke has always been one of his dad’s friends, a bona fide NHL star. Henke said smart casual but Willy’s wardrobe doesn’t really support that these days. Ripped jeans are definitely not going to cut it, nor sweatpants, but maybe if he wears the one pair of suit pants he'd kept with no jacket and rolls up his shirt-sleeves it won’t look as though he is trying too hard. He is in the process of trying to work out how many buttons he should leave undone to complete the effect when his roommate, Melissa, sneaks up behind him. 

“Hot date?” she asks as Willy jumps. 

“I’m just going out for dinner with a friend,” he says. 

She sits down on his bed without being invited. “Is this the same friend who gave you the money to pay off Marsh?” 

“How did you hear about that?” 

Melissa shrugs. “He was talking about how much weed he could buy with the money.” 

Well, she was going to find out he had money again when she opened the fridge so it wasn’t worth trying to deny it. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” 

“Willy, do you have a sugar daddy?” she asks, tone halfway between shocked and impressed. 

Willy can feel his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “What? No, of course not. He’s.. It’s not like that.” But now he’s had the idea, he can’t stop thinking about it. Henke had surely just taken pity on him and Willy shouldn’t read anything more into it. 

There’s no denying that Henke is a handsome man and Willy can admit he’d had a crush on him as a teenager. “He’s a business friend of my dad’s,” he says, feeling grateful that she was a casual hockey fan at best and hadn’t even been living in New York when his dad was on the team. 

“Who’s taking you out to dinner?” Melissa raises an eyebrow at him. It’s surprisingly effective as a tactic. 

“Sure. What’s wrong with that?” he says, feeling defensive. 

“Where did you say you were going?” she asks. 

Willy’s tempted to say he hadn’t, but he still has 10 minutes until Henke is due to collect him. “Per Se,” Willy answers, knowing what she’s going to say. 

“That’s where you take someone you’re trying to impress, Willy, not your old friend’s son.” 

Fortunately his phone buzzes at exactly that moment. Still he keeps thinking about it all through dinner, trying to read something into Henke’s words or gestures. 

The food is amazing, the restaurant more than living up to its reputation. Maybe it’s selfish, but this is the kind of thing he’s missed from not living off a pro-hockey player’s salary. Whenever he’d gone out for dinner with Alex, though it was still a better class of restaurant than he could afford, it wasn’t anywhere like this. 

When Henke invites him back to his apartment, Willy half-expects to be propositioned but instead Henke makes hot chocolate on the stove. Willy takes the seat next to him on the sofa, in case Henke is waiting for him to make the next move. 

Henke just looks faintly amused, even as he puts an arm over Willy’s shoulders and turns on the TV. Willy dozes off, feeling warm and cozy. He wakes to Henke shaking him gently. “I think you’ll be more comfortable in a bed.” 

“Yours?” Willy says, before his brain’s entirely online. 

Henke only laughs and guides him to the spare room. As he falls asleep again, Willy wonders if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

******

The next morning, Henke tells Willy to come straight to him if he has any more issues, financial or otherwise. 

Willy tries to refuse—Melissa’s comments still running through his head—but Henke insists, “Willy, I have money. Who else do I have to spend it on?” 

It’s hard to argue with that, Willy’s expenses are a drop in the ocean in terms of what Henke earns. He still privately vows that he won’t ask unless it’s something he needs. 

They arrange another dinner—not a date, Willy tells himself he can’t think of it like that—for when Henke gets back from his road trip and Henke tells him to expect a call from his tailor in the meantime. 

It’s a relief to be able to finally quit his bar job. Willy was grateful to Mark for giving him a job when no-one else would but he was glad not to need it anymore. He won’t miss getting home past midnight, feet aching and his clothes smelling of beer. 

Willy works his final shift, half-expecting to see Henke in the crowd even though he knows he has an early start the next morning. The bar’s crowded with Christmas parties. 

His boss could’ve been annoyed at Willy quitting at the busiest time of the year but he knew it wasn’t a permanent arrangement and probably had no shortage of students looking for a temporary job to cover their gift shopping or travel home for the holidays. 

“I heard you had a hot older guy waiting for you after your shift the other night,” Mark says, as he counts out Willy’s final wages. “You found yourself a sugar daddy? I guess a pretty one like you didn’t have much trouble finding someone.” 

That’s two people in as many days who’ve suggested that. Willy doesn’t know whether to bother disputing it— it’s not as though he’s going to see Mark again. Still, he doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea in case someone recognised Henke. “It’s not like that, he’s a family friend.” 

“Of course, sure,” Mark says with a wink. “Well, good luck with him. Come and find me if your situation ever changes—I won’t turn away a hard worker like you.” 

It’s good to know that he’s made a good impression, even if it wasn’t what he came to America for. There are even some things he’ll miss—he’d liked his co-workers, even if he couldn’t always relate to their situations. After growing up around hockey teams, years of playing in juniors and then his two years of pro-hockey, it was weird to be around normal people who’d never had those experiences. 

Willy doesn’t intend to ask Henke for anything—with his debt clear, his campus job should cover any incidental expenses going forwards—having the option as a fall back plan if anything comes up should be a relief but Willy can’t help but feel this is exactly what his dad had been worried about. 

******

Their dinner becomes a regular occurrence, the restaurants becoming no less fancy and Willy’s wardrobe gaining multiple suits. Henke seems genuinely interested in Willy’s college courses the way his dad has never been. Even when Willy gets distracted, waving his fork around and splashing Henke’s white shirt with tomato sauce, Henke only laughs and encourages him to keep going. 

By mutual agreement they don’t talk about hockey. Henke has never asked why Willy gave it up and the Rangers’ season isn’t exactly going well. Willy sets up an alert on his phone and, as the trade deadline approaches, he tries to distract Henke from the inevitable losses to teams stacking up for the playoffs. 

Henke’s appearance in his life made itself known in little ways as well. It amused him to buy Willy little gifts that had caught his eye. Willy should have known he could stop his coursemates catching on to the fact that something had changed. 

His slowly improving wardrobe was easy to ignore as the seasons changed but when he showed up to their project meeting with the new messenger bag Henke had bought to replace his ratty rucksack, he should have expected Emily to notice. 

“That’s Ralph Lauren, isn’t it?” she says. 

“Uh, yeah,” Willy should have thought up a story but it’s too early to be a birthday present and it’s clearly a new bag so he can’t claim to have found it at a thrift store. 

“Have you found yourself a sugar daddy?” Aaron asks.”I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“I bet he’s had it in him,” Emily cackles. 

Willy tries to deny it but he’s gone red and they’re not buying it. 

“You go get it, Will,” Aaron tells him. “I don’t suppose he has any rich friends.” 

There’s no way to answer that without outing Henke, and Willy has no real indication that he’s actually interested and not just helping Willy out of a sense of obligation. “None that are looking for a history major,” Willy chirps instead. It’s a running joke that Aaron’s the only humanities’ student in their group. 

His deflection works for the moment but Willy knows it won’t last if he keeps showing up with expensive clothes and new electronics. These are his friends, even if it's only their English Lit elective which has brought them together, and they’re going to want reassurance that he isn’t in over his head. 

He’s starting to think it wouldn’t be so bad if it was true. It feels good to be bought fancy things, and Willy can appreciate them more now he’s had a couple of years of managing by himself. Growing up Willy hadn’t realised how much difference there was between even the average hockey family and the rest of the world. He thinks about David, who he played with at Södertalje , and who’s now tearing up the league in Boston. David had always judged Willy for wasting money on things he didn't need; Willy wonders what David would think of him now. 

Sure, he’s still never going to need to worry about money in the long-term and, whatever his dad thinks about his career choices, he was never going to end up homeless or destitute. 

So maybe Willy doesn’t _need_ a Rolex watch, and he wouldn’t wear that to college anyway, it would be asking to get mugged on the subway, but when they go out to dinner and Henke’s gaze lingers on his wrist, Willy feels warm inside. 

Even so, he doesn’t want to leech off Henke. Once’s he’s graduated, Willy fully intends to work but in the meantime he’ll continue to enjoy Henke treating him. 

******

It’s weird living in the same state as Alex but still being 5 hours’ drive apart. Neither of them have the free time to meet up often so Willy makes a point of taking the train out to Bridgeport when he’s playing there in March. 

He hasn’t seen Alex since their family Christmas, which they’d done in Montreal since Alex had two games in Laval just beforehand. In front of their parents, Willy always tried to put a good face on, but Alex knew more of the truth since he was the one who paid for most of Willy’s gifts for the family, in return for Willy shopping for him too. Except he also knew Willy had been cagey since then. 

“So, are you going to finally tell me what’s up with you?” Alex asks, as soon as they’re in his hotel room. 

Willy knows he should but what’s between him and Henke feels almost too personal to share. “Nothing’s up,” he hedges. “Busy with course work, you know that.” 

“Do you need anything?” Alex offers. 

Willy felt good about shaking his head. He’d always felt guilty about taking money from his baby brother and he knew exactly how far an AHL salary didn’t go. Dad had made sure to go over to with him in detail before he’d decided to turn down the Leafs’ contract. 

“What’s going on, bro?” Alex asks. “You’re not doing anything illegal, are you?” 

“No,” Willy denies, though technically waiting tables without a work visa had been. 

“New bag, new trainers. Where are you getting the money from?” 

Willy can’t help blushing. “Look, it’s from Henke. Lundqvist,” he admits. 

Alex's eyebrows practically disappear into his fringe. “How did _that_ happen?"

“I ran into him at a bar,” Willy explains. “And he offered to take me out for dinner. Then when he saw what I had to wear he bought me a new suit, and it kind of went from them.” 

“Oh god, is he your sugar daddy?” Alex asks, sounding thrilled and horrified in equal measure. It’s one thing hearing that from friends but it’s not what he expected to hear from Alex. Willy doesn’t get a chance to object before Alex continues, “He’s nearly the same age as Dad.” 

“He’s 10 years younger than Dad,” Willy protests. 

“You’re not denying it.” Alex doesn’t look like he’s going to get upset if Willy says it’s true but he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression for Henke’s sake. 

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Willy says. 

“But you’d like him to be?” Alex waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

Willy doesn’t want to answer that question. “Are you going to pretend he’s not attractive?” 

“I didn’t need to know that,” Alex says, but he’s laughing rather than horrified so Willy will take it. 

******

It had taken some persuasion to allow Henke to give him Rangers’ tickets. Willy doesn’t mind occasionally catching hockey on TV, and obviously he goes to Alex’s games when he can, but he’s avoided NHL hockey. 

He doesn’t find it traumatic or anything but he’d needed a break and watching games on TV reminds him too much of watching his dad play when he was younger. 

Going to hockey games might be inconspicuous if Henke didn’t keep getting him seats in the area where the WAGs who weren't quite family yet sat. It was only a matter of time before someone recognised him as a regular attendee and put it together with the brand new Lundqvist jersey. 

Willy can hear the women speculating about his relationship with Henke and he pretends he can’t hear them. It’s easy enough to pay attention to the game and tune them out. 

Willy is just debating whether he wants to brave the intermission queues when one of them clearly gives into curiosity and drops into the seat next to him. “I’ve seen you here a few times now,” she says. “Are you here for Hank?” The Americanised name is harsh to his ears. “Are you a relative of his, or a family friend?” Her expression was friendly but Willy could see the way her eyes kept darting back towards the people she was sitting with and know whatever he said would make it back to everyone else within minutes. 

He forces a blank expression onto his face. “Jag är ledsen,” he says. “Jag förstår inte.” _I’m sorry. I don’t understand._ It’s enough to make her turn away with a frown. 

A moment later, Willy wishes he didn’t understand as they’re clearly talking about him, but he can’t say anything now. 

“So, what did he say?” one of the other women asks eagerly. 

“He doesn't speak English," she says, sounding disappointed. 

"We probably shouldn’t be surprised. A guy that pretty has to be an airhead. But what do you reckon?” 

Willy wants to be offended but he’s too busy trying not to laugh. He supposes he should be grateful they think he’s pretty and now he can’t stop himself eavesdropping further. 

“He could just be a friend,” another says. 

“Who gets good seats like these for ‘just a friend’ this often though?” It sounds as though they’ve had this argument before. 

“Hank’s so old though,” the first woman says. 

“I don’t know,” says one of the others. “If I didn’t have Tony, I wouldn’t mind having Lundqvist as a sugar daddy.” 

“Do you really think they are together though?” The questioner sounds insistent enough that Willy wonders if she has money riding on it. 

“Come on,” replies the one who’d spoken to him. “No straight man dresses that well.” 

Willy wishes that were enough to go on but whatever Queer Eye suggests, he has enough gay friends at college to know that there is no overlying clue. 

“The European ones do,” her friend argued. 

Given the disaster that was Alex’s wardrobe, Willy knew that wasn’t true either. 

Fortunately they’re interrupted by the return of the people in the neighbouring seats as the intermission comes to end and Willy doesn’t have to hear what conclusion they come to. It makes him wonder if they mention these speculations to their other halves, and if the 

Henke doesn’t have his teammates over often and so Willy hasn’t met any of them. He doesn’t know whether he should search for any meaning in that though. 

Still, Henke has given no sign that he has anything more than a paternal interest in him. Then again, that’s the ‘daddy’ part of sugar daddy and, even if Willy’s never been into that particular kink, he can’t deny that part of the appeal for him is how much older and more experienced Henke is. 

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to lay the charm on a little heavier, just to be sure that Henke definitely knew where he stood. Perhaps he could drop a couple of hints about ex-boyfriends, or the You Can Play initiative. 

******

The first time Henke kisses him it is almost accidental. Willy had stayed over, in the guest room as always, and was making himself breakfast with Adele playing on his phone. 

He thought Henke had left already and okay, he stayed over a lot so he knew the Rangers’ usual practice times. So he was surprised when Henke snuck in to grab a cup of coffee. 

“I’m going to be late,” he kisses Willy’s cheek absent-mindedly as he leaves. 

Willy just stands there in shock. Then he has to rush to get to class and has to push it to the back of his mind. 

The Rangers are on a road trip so Willy has a lot of time to think about it later. He’s pretty sure he’d be interested if Henke wants more but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by making a move if he’s reading it wrong. 

The second time is harder to pretend it doesn’t mean anything. Willy had had a long week of classes and two assignments due so they had ordered takeout and Willy was dozing on Henke’s sofa. 

He doesn’t open his eyes when Henke gets up, nor when he drapes a blanket over him so it was understandable that Henke thought he was asleep. 

“Godnat, min skatt,” he mutters, pressing his lips lightly to Willy’s temple. It’s old fashioned, but it makes Willy feel warm inside and he holds still until he hears Henke leave the room so as not to embarrass him. 

Willy’s starting to believe that Henke might share his feelings but that doesn’t mean he’s going to act on them. Willy doesn’t know how to make it clear that he feels the same without ruining a good thing if it turns out he’s wrong. 

The end of the season approaches and Willy has another month left of his semester. Willy tries not to pay too much attention to hockey but it’s clear the Rangers aren’t making the play-offs and he knows Henke will want to play at Worlds. 

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next year. Willy doesn’t even know if he’s going back to Sweden for the summer. Henke doesn’t bring it up either until about a week before the end of the season. 

Willy is doing his coursework at Henke’s table, he tells him it’s because the wi-fi is better than his own place, but the company is good too. He likes being able to speak Swedish more often and Henke doesn’t judge him when he needs to talk through his work aloud. 

It feels as though he’s here more evenings than not and Willy worries that he’s the reason Henke doesn’t seem to spend much time with his teammates but he doesn’t want to ask if Henke doesn’t want to talk about it. He finally hits send on the email to submit his work and pushes his laptop aside. “What time is it?” he asks with a yawn. 

“Late,” Henke says. “You should stay tonight. You don’t have an early start tomorrow.” 

The fact that Henke has memorised Willy’s schedule makes him feel both touched and guilty. “I’m sorry for imposing on you so much.” 

“Willy, I want you here,” Henke assures him but Willy still feels bad about imposing on him. 

“I’m sure you need your own space.” 

Henke says, “Why don’t you just move in with me next year?” 

Willy blinks, taking a moment to process the offer. He doesn’t want to make any assumptions but if Henke means it- “You know I couldn’t afford rent on a place like this.” 

“I don’t want any money from you,” Henke says. “I just want you here.” 

“I don’t want to take advantage,” Willy begins but Henke interrupts him. 

“Willy, I trust you. I know you're not a gold-digger. Honestly, you’ve been the one bright spark in a pretty miserable year.” 

That’s a lot to take in, and Willy doesn’t know how to respond. The only thing he can do is accept the offer, “I love to.” 

They have plans for dinner the next night and this time it’s pretty clearly a date. Henke rests a hand in the small of his back as they are led to their table, pulls out his chair for him, and throughout their meal he continues with the little touches. 

This time the ride back to Henke’s apartment is full of anticipation. Neither of them have said anything, not exactly, but they still both somehow know what’s going to happen next, what being together would mean. 

The door has barely shut behind them when Henke presses Willy up against the wall. “Damnit Willy, I could barely keep my hands off you,” Henke groans, and Willy flushes with need. 

Henke’s hands are on his shoulders and his lips feel just as good as Willy had thought they would be. 

They abandon their shoes and coats, Henke pulling him deeper into the apartment. The bedroom feels a long way off but the living room couch is just there. 

Then Willy’s on his knees in Henke’s living room and it’s hardly sunk in that he’s going to get to suck Henrik Lundqvist’s dick. Willy had always known Henke was gorgeous but he hadn’t been prepared for this, the way Henke is looking at him as though he’s something special. 

Willy had been prepared for Henke being well-endowed—it had been all over the internet when Avery’s book came out the year before—but actually being faced with it is more impressive than he’d imagined. He wants to show off for Henke but choking would be embarrassing. 

He’s been told before how good he looks doing this so he licks his lips to make them shiny and pink before leaning in to carefully suck on the tip. Henke groans as Willy slowly takes him into his mouth. He wants to make it good for him so he gets to do this again. 

“That’s it, baby,” Henke says. “Feels so good.” 

It kind of sounds like the thing older guys say to their younger partners in some of the porn Willy’s watched. Willy pulls off with a pop and looks up at Henke. “I’m not going to call you ‘Daddy’” he says, thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. 

Henke makes a choked noise. “God forbid. No, don’t do that, I _know_ your father, William.” 

Willy flutters his eyelashes. “I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page.” 

Willy takes him back in but he still can’t help worrying about being good enough; Henke could have anyone he wanted but he’s chosen Willy so he has to be worth it. 

When Henke stops him, Willy thinks he’s done something wrong but instead Henke says, “I want to do this properly.” He holds out a hand to help Willy to his feet. 

Willy expects to be led straight to the bedroom but instead Henke pulls him into an embrace, tipping Willy’s face towards his to meet his lips in a soft kiss. Willy clings to him, enjoying the moment to appreciate that he actually gets to have this after wanting it for so long. 

When they do make it to the bedroom, Henke is gentler than Willy expected, undressing him slowly. 

“You know I’m hardly a blushing virgin,” Willy tells him. 

Henke only shushes him and continues at his slow pace. It feels good to be treated as though he’s something precious and Willy tries not to overthink it. 

Willy urges Henke on, eager to discover all his secrets. Then Henke is pressed against him once more, all that warm skin, and they are kissing again. 

Their bodies move together and Willy feels overwhelmed in the best way as Henke works his hand between them, bringing them both off. 

Afterwards Henke lets Willy cuddle with him and Willy decides that if he wants this to be real, and he does, he needs to be honest with Henke. 

He rolls over so he can meet Henke’s eyes. “You’ve never asked me why I stopped playing,” he says, trying to make it sound like a question. 

Henke’s expression turns from fond to serious and he sits up. “I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready.” 

Willy nods, following suit. “I think I’m ready now.” 

It takes Henke a moment before he realises Willy is still waiting for him to actually ask. “Why did you stop?” he asks gently. 

“I played with Dad in the Allsvenskan, did you know that? So I’d always known, growing up, that hockey injuries happened, I mean, Dad broke his neck in the AHL, but watching what he was going through and still trying to play, I didn’t want that.” 

Henke frowns. “You know I’ve had injuries, some bad ones too. But I’m still not going to stop until I can’t play anymore.” 

Willy shrugs. “It’s different. I couldn’t do it to myself but Alex is still playing and it’s not like I’m avoiding him.” 

“You didn’t want to come to games,” Henke says, suddenly looking guilty as though he’s had a realisation. 

Willy hurries to reassure him. “Again, I watch Alex play. It’s just- I was worried that I’d end up doubting my choices if I went to an NHL game.” 

Henke nods with understanding but lets Willy continue. 

“I mean, I’ve missed three seasons but I’m still young and reasonably in shape. I could probably play again if I wanted to.” 

“But you don’t want to?” 

Willy shakes his head. “I know Dad thinks I’m just rebelling but I actually like my classes. Maybe I’ll join a rec team next year if I’m not going to need to work part-time.” 

“You don’t worry about what you’re missing out on?” Henke asks. 

“Not if you’re going to be my sugar daddy,” Willy jokes, making a show of fluttering his eyelashes. 

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to say that word,” Henke grumbles, but the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. He wraps an arm around Willy’s shoulders and Willy happily cuddles into his side. 

There is still a lot they need to talk about. Willy has two years left at college and Henke has three years left on his contract and who knows where either of them will be by then; a lot can happen in that time. Henke will be nearly forty by then but that’s not really old anywhere except in pro-sports. 

In the meantime, there are plans to be made for the summer, particularly what they _are_ going to tell his dad, and discussions to be held about next year, but Willy could definitely get used to this. 


End file.
